


we are all fools in love

by gabilliam (vvhymack)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvhymack/pseuds/gabilliam
Summary: Dong Sicheng was an enigma to Yuta, one his fingers and his mind itched to solve but never had the chance to because Sicheng- Sicheng was cold. This wasn’t the first time they’d met and Yuta doubted it would be their last, the Dong family being generous donors and Sicheng’s father being one of the few rich people Yuta could actually tolerate. Despite his charming mother and his genuine and doting father, and his cheerful sister, Sicheng didn’t have any of those amiable qualities, instead being quiet and closed off, making only the necessary conversation before getting distracted by his phone or simply going silent. He was passive, almost a simple onlooker to life and the world and it infuriated Yuta.





	we are all fools in love

**Author's Note:**

> the original prompt was “uni student yuta gets dragged by a friend to a rich people party and there he meets winwin. cue an angsty “i-dont-deserve-him” vs “i-dont-really-know-how-to-relate-properly” kinda story + sugar baby subplot” and the end result isn’t really close to the original prompt but i hope you like it anyway

The thing about Yuta was that he had this deep-seated hatred for the rich. He would admit it was prejudiced of him and unfair to a certain extent but awareness didn’t prevent the fact that it was  _ there _ and very tangible. He felt disgusted by ostentatious displays of wealth, by the pretence and the theatrics of the upper class. His job, however, as a retired soccer player and active fundraiser, forced him to rub elbows with the elite and some days, he could stomach it, convince himself his suffering was for the greater good. But there were only so many times he could explain the basics of socioeconomics and poverty to people who couldn’t seem to grasp that other people lived in different realities than them before he snapped. Luckily, his PA, Renjun, would intervene before it could happen and he would safely be extracted from the conversation. 

This particular fundraiser was simply  _ exhausting _ . It dealt with raising money for a community centre and the need for such institutions and why it was essential and basic right in civilized society was a topic too complex for much of the attendees. Most of them didn’t really care but Yuta had to take a deep breath and remind himself he didn’t care that they didn’t care. They’d still give money. If anything good could be said about the rich’s obsession with their image, it’s that social shame became an incredibly effective tool. That didn’t mean it wasn’t hard though and when Renjun pulled him away by the elbow with a friendly smile contrasting Yuta’s sharp grimace, Yuta almost sighed with relief. 

Almost, but not quite, because the grip the slighter man had on him was as tight as a vice and there was less escorting and more dragging that told Yuta that he was going to get chewed out. He shouldn’t let his PA, 5 years his junior, chew him out but the truth was that Yuta would be lost without him. Renjun, thank the saints,  _ didn’t _ chew him out but he did something much worse; he sat Yuta down at a table filled with more rich kids. And if Yuta hated the rich, he hated the rich  _ youth _ even more, although that was more based on his jealousy than anything else. As a child growing up craving financial security and stability, the lives of these kids felt unfair to him. He nodded at them and chatted lighting, having a conversation with each one until his eyes landed on the man right opposite him and they narrowed. The man looked back at him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression. 

Dong Sicheng was an enigma to Yuta, one his fingers and his mind itched to solve but never had the chance to because Sicheng- Sicheng was  _ cold _ . This wasn’t the first time they’d met and Yuta doubted it would be their last, the Dong family being generous donors and Sicheng’s father being one of the few rich people Yuta could actually tolerate. Despite his charming mother and his genuine and doting father, and his cheerful sister, Sicheng didn’t have any of those amiable qualities, instead being quiet and closed off, making only the necessary conversation before getting distracted by his phone or simply going silent. He was passive, almost a simple onlooker to life and the world and it  _ infuriated _ Yuta. People should be active and engaged in the world they live in, especially if they’re as powerful and influential as Dong Sicheng. Now, sitting across from his, Sicheng had the same passive stance, waiting for Yuta to start the conversation. 

“Sicheng,” Yuta said.

“Nakamoto,” Sicheng nodded, his eyes screaming  _ are we done, is this done _ and Yuta’s yelling back  _ no. _

“How’re you doing? I heard you’ve taken on a position at your father’s company.” Ah, nepotism. 

“I did but I quit. I wasn’t very fond of it and there were other, more qualified people, who fitted the job better,” Sicheng replied with a shrug, eyes already wandering from Yuta. Yuta was already losing him and his attention. 

“How noble of you,” Yuta said, allowing a little sarcasm to bleed into his voice. 

“Yes, I truly am a saint. The saviour for the working class,” Sicheng said with a straight face and an even voice. Yuta tilted his head, trying to find  _ any _ sign that he was joking when a voice and a figure over Sicheng caught his attention. 

“Sicheng! There you are! God, are you hiding away again?” The strange beautiful man said and Sicheng leapt up, his face brightening in recognition, his features twisting to-- wait. Was Dong Sicheng  _ smiling _ ? Yuta had never seen such an honest to god smile on Sicheng’s face in the half dozen times he’d met him. He even allowed himself to be pulled into what looked like a bro hug. The man caught Yuta staring in bewilderment and Yuta wanted to apologize, to look away but the man smiled at him and now he was rendered speechless by dimples and an eye smile. Oh God, he was such a fucking disaster gay sometimes. 

“Hi!” The man said, his voice fitting his face and everything else about him. In other words, perfect. “I’m Jung Jaehyun! You are?”

“Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta,” Yuta said, standing up to greet him and shake his hand. Sicheng was looking at him oddly and Yuta glared back, receiving an eye roll in return. Jaehyun sat down beside Sicheng and Yuta followed suit opposite Sicheng. 

“Oh,  _ you’re  _ Yuta,” Jaehyun said in realization, in a way that might have seemed snarky from anyone but came with genuine wonder from Jaehyun. “I’ve heard so much about you from- ah, from um. Everyone.” Jaehyun finished the sentence with a wince.

“Good things, I hope? Are you alright?” Yuta asked in concern when Jaehyun winced again. 

“He’s lactose intolerant,” Sicheng said steadily from beside him. “He probably ate something with dairy in it again.”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes but nodded along. 

“Right. Lactose intolerance. Runs in the family. And yes! Of course, only good things. You do wonderful things! 

The conversation continued smoothly, Jaehyun being an amiable person and good conversationalist, with a host of strange interests he would go off on a tangent about before Sicheng brought him back. 

“He hosts a radio show,” Sicheng told Yuta. “He forgets that in real life, other people have to talk back.” 

“It’s alright,” Yuta smiled. “It’s interesting.” 

“ _ You’re _ interesting,” Jaehyun said, leaning forward. “Retired soccer player at 32, giving up a career in coaching one of the top teams to become a campaigner and a fundraiser, that’s amazing!” 

“You seem to know a lot about me,” Yuta said with a laugh. 

“Yeah, Si-” Another grimace. “Si. Si! That’s yes in Spanish!” 

“You should go to the washroom, Jaehyun,” Sicheng said somewhat forcefully, although Yuta decided to be generous and take it as concern for his friend. Jaehyun shot Sicheng a look before nodding and getting up and hobbling away. Yuta looked back at Sicheng, who had an impassive face again, and it wasn’t long before the conversation died again. 

The next time Yuta met Sicheng was the first time he saw him in an informal setting and honestly, Yuta was inclined to ignore the man in front of him in a line at a coffee shop since said man hadn’t even bothered turning back. Yuta couldn’t help himself, however, when they finally got to the counter and he overheard Sicheng’s order. 

“— and a chai for Jaehyun,” 

“Isn’t he lactose intolerant?” Yuta said before he could stop himself and Sicheng whipped around. He looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“He is — he’s just intolerant, though. He still suffers through it for some chai,” Sicheng replied, gesturing with his hands. 

“Should you be enabling him?” Yuta asked raising an eyebrow and maybe it was the surprise factor, but Sicheng flushed under Yuta’s gaze. 

“We can substitute the milk with soy milk,” The cashier said impatiently and Yuta realized there were other people behind him. He shrugged, retreating into himself again. 

“Yeah, sure,” He heard Sicheng say. “Do that, please.” 

Sicheng barely spared Yuta a glance as he took his orders from the booth and left. Not that Yuta cared. 

Suddenly, it seemed that Sicheng cropped up everywhere in Yuta’s day to day life away from galas and fundraisers. He saw him a few other times at the cafe, sometimes alone, sometimes not, a couple of times with Jaehyun, in clothes that  _ weren’t _ sharp suits. It made him look younger, more normal, more human. More approachable, though Yuta never did. Sicheng always seemed to slip past him, either jogging away at the park or brushing past in the cafe or checking out at a bookstore. It wasn’t until the next fundraiser a few months later that Yuta actually got to sit and interact with Sicheng again after many missed chances. 

Jaehyun was there again but so were Taeyong and Taeil and the five of them ended up commandeering a table after all the pleasantries and introductions were done after Yuta was done with the bulk of his networking. The conversation was about some performance by the time Yuta made it to the table and had rested enough to be aware of his surroundings again. 

“I loved your performance, by the way,” Taeyong was saying eagerly, leaning across the table at-- Sicheng? Sicheng’s performance? Sicheng performed? By the way Sicheng flushed and mumbled out a thanks, it seemed so. It didn’t stop Yuta from being dumbfounded though. 

“You perform?” Yuta blurted out. 

“I dance,” Sicheng replied smoothly. 

“It’s really amazing,” Taeyong raved on. “So much emotion! You really tell stories! You practice with Ten, right?”

“How did you know?”

“I know Ten’s style. He always cultivates fluid dancers who match his contemporary style.”

“I didn’t know you danced,” Yuta said and Sicheng’s attention turned back to him and now amusement danced in his eyes. 

“You don’t know a lot about me, Nakamoto,” Sicheng said, almost playfully. Yuta tilted his head, taking Sicheng in from a new perspective. Sicheng let it happen, waiting for a verdict when he wasn’t sure what the accusation was. When Yuta locked eyes with him again, they were narrowed. 

“I can’t imagine you dancing,” Yuta said slowly and he heard Taeyong laugh but he was speaking the truth. Sicheng was  _ passive _ whenever Yuta saw him and he couldn’t imagine him moving the same way he’d seen Taeyong or Ten moves. 

“I can’t imagine you dancing either, so,” Sicheng said, raising his eyebrows. 

“We should all dance!” Taeil suddenly said, leaping up. Yuta startled at the sudden outburst, confused until he saw Taeil stalking towards a taller man who was making conversation just as the outskirts of the dance floor. Doyoung didn’t seem surprised by Taeil’s sudden appearance, nor was unpleased going by the smile on his face. By the time his attention came back to their own table, Jaehyun and Taeyong had also abandoned him, leaving him with only Sicheng looking at him expectantly. 

“Do you-?” Yuta said, gesturing at the dance floor. Sicheng rolled his eyes. 

“Do  _ you _ ? No offence, but you look dead to your feet,” Sicheng noted and he wasn’t  _ wrong _ . 

“I can - uh - sway,” Yuta replied with a shrug and Sicheng laughed, a gleeful sound that Yuta wasn’t used to eliciting from Sicheng but that resounded in him, making him crave more of it. Sicheng nodded and got up and before Yuta could move, really, Sicheng was in front of him, offering him a hand up. Yuta took it and let Sicheng take him to the dance floor hand in hand. 

Yuta wasn’t kidding, the best he could do was sway, but Sicheng seemed content with that, keeping up a low conversation that kept Yuta at ease to the point where he was actively enjoying himself. He had to snap himself out of it when Sicheng stepped back, apologizing and gesturing to his father, who seemed to be calling to him. Yuta assured him it wasn’t an issue and walked Sicheng walk away feeling out of place and wrong-footed, head a whirl now that the thing was actively happening to him 

It was easier after that, to call out to Sicheng whenever he saw him. Initially Sicheng looked perpetually surprised, and when Yuta asked him why, he’d simply stated “You usually ignore me” which made Yuta feel funny. He hadn’t meant it maliciously but it was true that Yuta purposely ignored or pretended not to see Sicheng a lot, if only to spare them both awkwardness. 

It wasn’t awkward now though, with them sometimes sharing a conversation with the drinks they’d just bought or Sicheng walking alongside Yuta at the park until their paths diverged. It became obvious to Yuta that Sicheng definitely had the physique and gracefulness of a dancer that Yuta couldn’t see with him in a suit, sitting at a table. 

It wasn’t that Yuta was just realizing that Sicheng was attractive. Yuta had known that from the minute he’d set eyes on him. Sicheng was an extraordinarily beautiful man and an attractive one to Yuta to boot but none of that had mattered to Yuta in the face of Sicheng’s quietness and passivity. Now, though, Sicheng was more comfortable in his presence and he  _ bloomed _ . He didn’t realize how attractive he’d find other things Sicheng did when he existed, when he moved, like when he laughed with his head thrown back or when he wrinkled his nose or when he straight up attacked Yuta when Yuta said something cheesy or stupid or both. 

It was Yuta realizing he was doting on Sicheng’s mannerisms and personality that made him realize that maybe he had a massive fucking crush on the man. 

“Oh, God, are you  _ just _ realizing this?” Doyoung groaned from beside him at the couch at Doyoung’s place. Yuta had come to moan about his feelings and they had both gotten a little carried away with the beer. 

“What is that supposed to me?” Yuta slurred back. 

“I mean, it’s obvious, you idiot. You were definitely pining over him the past two fundraisers,” Doyoung said, wagging his finger at Yuta. 

“I’m not  _ pining _ ,” Yuta protested, but in vain as Doyoung scoffed at him. 

“Yes, you are! I see the way you look at him! It’s disgusting, really. It’s the way I look at Taeil. Absolutely horrifying,” Doyoung said, dramatically shuddering. 

“Should you be talking about your boyfriend like that?” 

“He ignored me and then sent me a cat meme! I can talk about him how I want!” Doyoung pouted. “You! You should ask Sicheng out!”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Yuta said wisely. He was very wise. And smart! The smartest, really. 

“Why?” Doyoung demanded. 

“He’s- he’s  _ rich _ ,” Yuta justified. 

“And?” Doyoung said after a pause. When nothing more came forward, he laughed. “Is that  _ it _ ? So what if he’s rich?”

“I hate the rich! He grew up rich! I don’t know his lifestyle! What if we get serious and get married and I have to deal with his rich family!”

“You  _ like _ his rich family though?” Doyoung pointed out and oh- Yuta had forgotten that. 

“Still!” Yuta insisted. “We wouldn’t work out!”

“I’m too drunk to deal with your stupidity,” Doyoung moaned, burying his face in a pillow and Yuta followed suit and before long, they were both out cold. 

The thoughts still whirled around in Yuta’s head, though, and blared like alarms every time Sicheng did anything endearing, which turned out to be  _ all the fucking time _ . It was a constant barrage of  _ Cute! Hold his hand! Tuck his hair away! Steady his step! Hold his hand! Make a stupid joke to make him laugh! Hug him too long! Hold his fucking hand, you coward! Kiss him! Make him smile! Make him moan! Kiss him! Wipe away the foam on the corner of his lips! Kiss him! Kiss him! Ki- _

“Can you stop?” Yuta finally snapped and Sicheng startled from beside him. It was late and they were walking back to Yuta’s after a coffee date that wasn’t really a date.

“Sorry? Stop what?” Sicheng asked. 

“Nothing,” Yuta sighed. “Nothing, I’m- I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Sicheng asked softly, voice strangely devoid of its usual sarcasm, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“No,” Yuta said, massaging his forehead where the voices still whispered to him. He looked up when he felt Sicheng’s hand on his forehead as well, pulling his hands away before feeling his temperature. 

“You feel fine,” Sicheng said, tongue poking out in concentration and making Yuta go  _ crazy _ . He didn’t know how Sicheng did it, how he made him want him like he needed him to breathe but with Sicheng so close to him, looking at him with wide concerned eyes, Yuta was going to lose it. 

“Can I kiss you?” Yuta blurted out, the way he’d blurted out that he didn’t think Sicheng was a good dancer all those months ago and Sicheng had proven him wrong. Now Yuta knew Sicheng was an amazing dancer, an emotive dancer, and it was just one of the many things Yuta loved about Sicheng and oh fuck, the l word. The fucking l word, he was in god damn love. He came to this realization just as Sicheng processed the words he said and his eyes widened he took a step back. 

“What?” Sicheng asked with wide eyes, almost looking scared. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-” Yuta stumbled over his words.

“Why would  _ you _ want to kiss  _ me _ ?” Sicheng asked, bewilderment clear in his voice and something inside Yuta bristled, as he remembered the class divisions that meant so much to so many and when he started excluding Sicheng from those people. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to get my lower class cooties on you,” Yuta said, rolling his eyes and Sicheng laughed harshly. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t twist my words.”

“What  _ did _ you mean then?” Yuta challenged and his eyes trailed after Sicheng’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. 

“What do you mean, lower class, anyway? You’re a retired soccer player, you’re not exactly-” Sicheng huffed after a moment but Yuta cut him off. 

“What did you mean?”

“I mean,” Sicheng said slowly after another pause. “I meant you’re you. You’re amazing and kind and compassionate and brilliant and just such a good person. Why would you want to kiss me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yuta frowned, stepping closer to Sicheng, who didn’t move away but curled up into himself more. 

“I’m me?” Sicheng said as an explanation, even though it left Yuta more confused. 

“And? I know you’re you. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Uh, you’re All That and I’m - not.”

“Not what?”

Sicheng seemed to struggle with his words but landed on one eventually. 

“Deserving,”

Yuta was silent for a minute, observing Sicheng, watching his nervous ticks.

“I think you’re wonderful,” Yuta said, startling a gasp out of Sicheng. “I wouldn’t want to kiss you if I didn’t. I think you’re kind,” Yuta took another step forward. “-caring, hard working. You’re dedicated to what you do when you decide to do it and you’re a good person, whom I  _ definitely _ want to kiss. So, can I kiss you?”

All he needed was to see the resolution in Sicheng’s eyes and the nodded before he swooped up, capturing Sicheng’s lips with his known, taken in the small gasp that escaped Sicheng. It took a moment for Sicheng to remember himself but when he did kiss Yuta back, Yuta realized that Sicheng kissed the same way he danced. All consuming and passionately, putting his all into it, leaving Yuta breathless. His arms wrapped around Yuta’s waist, bringing him closer. The entire world seemed to narrow down to just them, to the feel of Sicheng’s thumb brushing against his jaw and the way his hair felt between Yuta’s fingers. It wasn’t until Sicheng pulled away and Yuta was literally gasping for breath that he realized how long they’d been kissing. 

Sicheng looked down on him, fondness apparent in his eyes and Yuta wondered how he hadn’t caught it before. 

“I really like you,” Yuta whispered and Sicheng broke into a toothy smile, taking Yuta’s breath away again. 

“I really like you too,” Sicheng said, leaning down to peck Yuta on the lips again, and they walked home hand in hand. 

It took years down the road, with a ring on his finger, for Yuta to realize he was now married into one of the most influential and rich families in the country and he was now  _ part of the bourgeoisie.  _

He’d spent a day in mourning and Sicheng had to take their cat, Jun, away from Yuta’s clutches before he got himself scratched. It was alright, though, because at the end of the day, he got to sleep next to Sicheng and wake up next to him for the rest of his life and that was worth it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on twitter @nyankamoto !!!!


End file.
